Just What the Doctor Ordered
by faith2727
Summary: In which Elena tries to be a good Whitmore student by staying home and studying instead of attending the annual Halloween bash. Thankfully, Damon refuses to pass up an opportunity to put his costume to its best use.


**Disclaimer: Not my characters, obviously. Just playing in their world for a while.  
**

 **TVD goes hand in hand with Halloween in my mind, so I couldn't resist writing this DE one-shot in honor of the spooky holiday.  
**

 **In terms of the time frame, imagine, if you will, a season 6 where Elena didn't erase her memories of Damon, and Damon and Bonnie came back from the 1994 prison world together, sans any of the Kai complications (even though Kai was a fantastic villain).**

 **Warning: Preeeetty smutty. Also features light bondage (which I'll blame on an obsession with the chorus to Years & Years' song "Ties" :)).**

 **Thanks to Daroh for the beta! 3**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 _Tap, tap, tap_. _Tappity tap_. _Tap, tap_.

If that annoying tapping sound didn't stop pretty soon, Elena was going to tear out someone's—

 _Oh_. Glancing down at the bobbing pen in her hand, she realized _she_ was the culprit. She tossed the offending writing instrument on the bedside table and closed her textbook with a sigh. She'd had enough human anatomy for today, thankyouverymuch. It felt a bit redundant seeing as how one too many mishaps in Mystic Falls had already given her a pretty solid understanding of the topic. Digging wooden splinters out of your ex's chest cavity would do that to you.

A quick check of the time—9:10—told her that the party would be well underway by now. It took every last shred of self-control she possessed not to ditch the mountain of homework scattered on the bed around her and get dressed to go out. She'd even picked out a cute costume, too. Maybe next year.

The little voice that always liked to chip at her resolve chose that moment to offer some unhelpful advice: _Just compel your professors to give you an A. You don't need to study. You're a fucking vampire; be wild, have fun, feed_.

Shaking it off, she made the mistake of checking her phone only to find an adorable selfie from Caroline and Bonnie. Caroline was dressed as Sandy from _Grease_ , with her skintight leather pants and off-the-shoulder black top. Bonnie was rocking a Wonder Woman getup, complete with a golden lasso attached to her hip. _Aren't we the cutest? Missing you!_ read the accompanying text.

"I love you guys, but that's definitely not making this any easier," Elena muttered.

She responded with a thumbs up/kissy-face emoji combo and was about to set her phone down when a text arrived from Damon.

 _Still at the bar w/ Prof. Saltzman. No party?_

 _No. Too much work to do :(_

 _Bummer._ _Need any help? ;)_

She laughed, easily picturing his signature wink. _Maybe later_ , she answered. _Love you. :*_

 _Back atcha, babe_.

Damon's reply was enough to put a smile back on her face, and she picked up the nearest book—an introductory Psych text—with fresh determination. If she could put a dent in her workload, she could spend more time with Damon when he returned from his nightcap with Alaric.

In the meantime, she'd delve into the world of the id, the ego, and the superego.

Yay.

###

When it seemed as if two weeks had passed since she'd started reading, Elena finally looked up at the clock with bleary eyes. 10:41. She yawned and stretched, turning off the light and closing the book in her lap with a resounding thump. "That's enough Freud for tonight."

A knock sounded at the door, making her jump. It was too early to be Caroline and Bonnie, unless they'd hit a serious snag at the party and had decided to call it a night. "Damon, is that you?"

Silence.

Just as she was reaching for the fireplace poker, the door swung open to reveal . . . well, it was definitely Damon, but she did a double take when she noticed what he was wearing.

She squinted, trying to make sense of his outfit. "Did you hit the bourbon a little too hard? Where's Ric?"

He sauntered forward, straightening the lapels on his white coat. "I dropped him off at his apartment and made sure he was poured into bed like the good friend I am. He's gonna regret that one in the morning—or afternoon, I should say."

"I bet." She gestured toward his getup. "So, what's happening here? Did you sign up to be an extra on _Grey's Anatomy_ or something?"

He flashed his most charming smile, and Elena felt heat creep into her cheeks. She hoped the dim lighting would disguise her blush, but judging by the way said smile grew, she knew she wasn't that lucky.

"Nope. Even though I usually stick with costumes that don't cramp my style, I picked this one to go along with your doctorly aspirations." He stopped in front of her, and she took him in from his deliciously mussed hair to his booted feet. "Since we skipped out on the party, I figured I'd wear it for you, and maybe we can have some Halloween fun of our own." He waggled his brows, and she raised her own in amazement that he'd embraced the spirit of the holiday without any prodding, begging, or pleading on her part. Damon was many things—volatile, predatory, intimidating, incredibly sexy—but he was rarely _festive_.

"How very sweet of you . . . Dr. Salvatore," she added when her wandering gaze landed on the nametag pinned to his coat. "How'd you happen to get that?"

"I have my ways," he replied with a grin.

"Don't I know it."

"You've been doing a little light reading, I see." He plucked the book she was still holding out of her hands and flipped through the pages. "Psychology? Ugh." He snapped it shut, looking like he was ready to chuck it into the fire.

"Please don't toss that in there. I need it," she pointed out, glancing warily at the flames crackling away in the hearth.

"That'd be a good place for it, but if you insist," he conceded, dropping the offending item on Bonnie's bed. "Now, where were we? Oh, yeah. Fun, and how we should definitely be having some." He paused, giving her the same onceover she'd given him only moments ago. "Why, Ms. Gilbert, you're looking a little under the weather. I think all that studying is starting to affect your health."

"What? Don't be ridiculous, Damon. I don't get sick anymore . . ." Her voice trailed off as he rested his palm on her forehead, then ran the back of his hand over each of her cheeks. Before she realized where he was headed next, he'd undone the first two buttons on her shirt and was checking to see if her chest was as flushed as her face. One thing was for certain—if it hadn't been before, it was now.

Elena laughed as she tried to tamp down the heat surging through her, but it was no use. "Getting a little handsy there, aren't ya, Doc?"

"You're burning up," he concluded, clearly dedicated to the role he was playing. "It's a good thing I got here when I did." He reached behind him to grab the clipboard he'd left on the dresser, and she caught a hint of a smirk before he grew serious again while he perused whatever document was attached to it. Probably a receipt from the liquor store, knowing him. "According to your chart, you have a very serious illness that only I can treat. Imagine that."

"Lucky me." Elena had no idea where this was headed, but she was up for what was sure to be a very, very pleasurable experience. After 170-odd years, Damon had more than a few tricks up his sleeve.

While she let her mind run wild with the possibilities, he quickly gathered the remaining binders, folders, and books from her bed and stacked them in a surprisingly neat pile on the floor. When he was finished, he patted the comforter. "Why don't you lie down so I can examine you more . . . thoroughly?" His mesmerizing eyes glittered in the firelight, and she didn't miss the mischief in their blue depths.

She did as he asked, settling on the bed and shifting around a bit until she was comfortable—well, as comfortable as she could be with Damon looking at her like he wanted to devour her.

When she was done fidgeting, he perched on the edge of the mattress and pulled a small glass thermometer from his pocket.

"Wow, that's old school. Couldn't find a newer one that goes in the ear instead?"

"What if I told you it's not going in your mouth?" he asked without batting a lash.

Her eyes widened before narrowing into dangerous slits. "Then you'd better prepare yourself for a hell of a fight, Salvatore," she growled.

He glared back at her for a few seconds until his lips started to quirk, and he burst into laughter. "You're adorable when you're all riled up. Relax," he added, "and say 'Ah.'"

She did as he asked, waiting until his fingers were within reach as she attempted to nip the closest one. Unfortunately, her teeth closed around empty air, and she silently cursed his lightning-quick reflexes.

Damon made a _tsk_ ing sound and popped the thermometer in her mouth, neatly avoiding her teeth this time. "No biting. Yet."

He let her stew while he made some notes on her "chart." _He's probably playing Tic-Tac-Toe with himself and planning new ways to drive me insane_ , she mused. When he finished his game/doodle/love letter to Alaric, he took back the thermometer and made a dramatic show of trying to read it in the near darkness.

"Hmm. I can't quite see what it says. Hang on." He hopped off the bed and walked toward the fireplace. Crouching in front of the small blaze, he held up the instrument, getting it intentionally close to the flames. "Definitely a fever," he deduced.

Elena had to stifle a giggle by turning it into a cough, which didn't escape his notice. "A cough, too? You must be getting worse. Better have a listen." Returning to her side, he took the stethoscope from around his neck. He was kind enough to spend a few minutes warming the chestpiece before parting her half-unbuttoned shirt and pressing it against her skin.

"You're a little too good at this. Have you been watching soaps again with Ric?" she whispered, trying not to rattle his eardrums. It was bad enough that her heartbeat was probably assaulting his overly sensitive hearing like a drum solo at a rock concert.

He grinned and shushed her, pushing back the sleeve of his coat so he could use his watch to time her pulse. Yep, he'd definitely been catching up on his daytime television.

"Just as I suspected. Your heart is racing," he announced, lowering his hand until it was resting on her thigh.

"I wouldn't go that far. It's still pretty norm—" She immediately forgot the rest of her argument when his fingers began inching their way higher and higher until they disappeared up the leg of her shorts. He hooked a thumb in the flimsy material of her underwear and pulled it to the side, pausing a moment to trace her slit before slipping one long finger inside of her.

"See? Racing, just like I said." His matter-of-fact statement was accompanied by a smug smile, and she was torn between wanting to either slap or kiss it off his face.

"That's . . . cheating," Elena gasped.

"Nonsense. I'm just reporting what your body is telling me, and what a tale it is." With his free hand, he tugged off the stethoscope and tossed it on the dresser. He continued to slowly fuck her, adding a second finger to the mix but being careful not to let her get too close to the edge, much to her chagrin.

"Please tell me orgasm denial isn't part of the treatment," she gritted out through clenched teeth.

"Not at all, my impatient patient. All good things in time." He punctuated his promise by crooking one of his fingers so it rubbed against her sensitive tissues in a way that always drove her wild.

She arched off the bed, blindly grabbing onto his arm for support. "What about Caroline and Bonnie?" she asked after a particularly loud moan escaped her lips. "They could walk in on us at any time."

"Oh, don't worry about that," he assured her. "I put a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door guaranteeing dismemberment and/or a slow, painful death to anyone who interrupted us, especially if she's blonde or has a name that rhymes with 'Connie.'" He chose that moment to withdraw his hand, bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking them clean while Elena watched in frustration.

"You're supposed to be curing me, Dr. Salvatore. That's not helping," she grumbled. All of his seductive teasing was only making her burn hotter.

"Mmm, delicious," he purred, giving his middle finger one last, pointed lick while she stared, riveted. "That has a nice ring to it, by the way—'Dr. Salvatore.'"

"Damon," she whined. "Don't just leave me like this. I'm dying here."

"Yes, clearly. Where were we?" He unbuttoned his coat and shrugged it off, revealing a pristine white shirt and black tie. He made quick work of the tie, loosening the knot and sliding the length of silk from around his neck. Setting it on the bed beside him, he traced the hem of her shorts, looking thoughtful. "I think I should get you out of those clothes."

Elena nodded eagerly, prepared to just tear everything off in one go, but he stayed her hands. "Easy there. Let me." He undid the rest of the buttons on her shirt, and she raised her arms so he could remove it. Her cami was the next to go, and she watched it sail through the air to land in a crumpled heap on Bonnie's bed. She made a mental note to collect any stray items of clothing before her friends were allowed to reenter the room; the last thing they needed to find was her thong hanging from a sconce.

Her shorts and undies were a two-for-one affair as he gripped the waistband of both garments and lifted her hips so he could shimmy them down her legs. He lobbed the wad of fabric onto the floor and paused to plant a kiss on her ankle, smiling when he felt her shiver.

He smoothed his hands up her legs and over her quivering belly until he was cupping her breasts. "Perfect," he murmured in appreciation. Leaning down, he caught a nipple with his teeth and gently tugged before releasing it and flicking at the hardened nub with his tongue. A noise somewhere between a squeal and a growl came from Elena, and she arched her back, seeking more of his attentions.

After repeating his sensual torment on the other breast, he stopped long enough to nuzzle her throat, licking and nipping at the throbbing vein just beneath her skin. "You're on fire, baby," he husked. "Let's see what I can do to make it better."

Damon stood and began to strip, his shirt falling at his feet with the buttons still attached, which wouldn't have happened if she'd been in charge of undressing him. His boots and slacks were next, and she was pleased to find him sans boxers and gloriously bare, his cock fully erect and bobbing against his lower belly.

She shifted on the bed, restless and wanting, half-tempted to abandon their sexy role playing and climb all over Damon where he stood.

"It seems my patient can't stop squirming. Do I have to restrain you?" he asked a little too sweetly, telling her that the threat was very, very real.

A fresh wave of heat rushed through her, pushing her blood to the boiling point. Her heartbeat also gave a telling kick that didn't go unnoticed by Dr. Salvatore. "Maybe that's not a bad idea," he said, collecting his discarded tie and kneeling beside her. "This would be so much easier in my bed, but we'll have to make do."

He gathered her wrists in one hand and looped the silk around them, tying it in a loose knot. Easing her arms above her head, he weaved the ends of the fabric in between the slats of the headboard and tied it off.

"Too tight?" he asked, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead.

She tested her bonds, finding them snug but not unbearably so. Plus, there was the whole super strength thing. If she had enough, she could easily break free. "Nope," she replied, sounding a little more breathless than she'd planned.

"Good." He trailed his fingers over her breasts and stomach, stopping at the apex of her thighs. His thumb parted her folds and pressed against her clit, making her hips jerk. Spreading her legs wide, he settled between them and gripped his cock in one hand, rubbing the engorged head along the cleft of her sex. Elena moaned softly as she tried to tilt her pelvis just enough so he'd slip inside.

Wise to her tricks, he briefly pulled away, just long enough for a growl to rumble deep in her throat. "Please don't be a tease," she begged, a hint of fang visible as she bit her lip.

"Sorry, baby," he soothed. "I couldn't resist." His cock nudged at her entrance once again, and he filled her slowly, disappearing inside her tight sheath inch by blissful inch.

Elena's hands curled into fists, her nails digging into her palms and her toes curling in pleasure. "Yes," she hissed as Damon began to move, setting a steady rhythm. She yanked on her restraints, desperate to touch him.

He hooked her legs around his hips and fucked her with long, deep strokes. His mouth unerringly found hers, swallowing her cries while his tongue mimicked the same deliciously maddening thrusts of his cock. Ratcheting up the sensations another notch, he slid a hand between their slick bodies and pinched her nipples just hard enough to make her squeal.

"Damon," she mewled. "So close."

He quickened his pace in response to her plea, but his thrusts were losing some of their usual finesse. Wanting to be sure he followed her over the edge, she used her inner muscles to squeeze his cock, eliciting a loud, drawn-out moan from him.

"You little minx," he rasped. She watched as the whites of his eyes turned crimson and dark veins rippled to life across his cheeks. His lips parted, and he ran his tongue over the sharp tips of his fangs.

 _Oh, shit_. He knew exactly how to make her see stars, and he'd clearly decided that that time was now. He dipped his head, his mouth finding the hammering pulse at the base of her throat. He kissed her there once, twice, and then his teeth sank deep.

Elena screamed as a powerful orgasm washed over her. She was dimly aware of the creak of the headboard, and she relaxed her arms before she tore it from the bed. Damon continued to suckle at her throat, surging into her one last time before he came with a muffled shout.

He took a few more sips of her blood and then swiped his tongue over the wound, collecting any drops he'd missed. While she resurfaced, panting softly in the aftermath of her mind-blowing climax, he reached above her and released her hands, massaging her wrists until the pink marks faded. She stretched with a satisfied groan, and Damon pulled her into his arms, rolling over so he was on his back and she was draped on top of him like a limp, well-pleasured blanket.

"I think your fever's gone," he whispered.

She shrugged. "I don't know. It might come back, so you should probably stick around just in case," she said, giving him a lazy smile.

He chuckled, nodding in agreement. "So, was that better than going to some party where there are drunk frat boys swinging from the rafters?" he asked, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

"Much," she murmured, resting her head on his chest and pressing a kiss there. "It was just what the doctor ordered."


End file.
